


Voices That Live in My Head Rent-Free

by gardakuka



Series: Soulstorm [7]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Again, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-14 17:35:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28799187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gardakuka/pseuds/gardakuka
Summary: Soulmate AU, in which at some random points of your life you can hear your soulmate instead of your inner thoughts. Good luck.
Relationships: Sandor Clegane/Sansa Stark
Series: Soulstorm [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1625113
Comments: 36
Kudos: 74





	1. In which Sandor is pissed off and is attacked by his chirping inner self

**Author's Note:**

> She ran fast, but soulmate au had an electric scooter.

Sandor was pissed off and it wasn’t about the fact he lost his second tourney in a row. Alright, he was pissed off because of that fact, but just a little bit. His body hurt after a clumsy fall from his stupid horse. It wasn’t even his horse, he was allowed to take it from the Royal stables just to participate in that bloody tourney. He had to get himself a decent horse as soon as possible.

He was pissed off because of the stupid horse, fine. It was old Selmy who unhorsed him, he was a skilled warrior, and at first Sandor thought he didn’t mind losing to that man. Until Selmy found him after the end of the tourney and started chin-wagging about Sandor and his skills and all the possibilities he could have in the future if he decided to become a knight. Sandor loathed all those fucking knights and it was known. Alright, maybe Selmy wasn’t _that_ bad, but at that moment Sandor decided he didn’t like him very much. So he became pissed off because of Selmy, too.

And then he was told his services as Joffrey’s sworn shield weren’t needed for the rest of the evening, and bloody Kinglsayer made another joke about Sandor being a good dog and not causing too much trouble without his masters. Sandor was a dog, everyone called him that way. Even Sandor himself, but he wished he could punch Jaime’s face with that stupid smirk. The bastard knew for sure how to piss Sandor off even more.

At least the wine was fine. Sandor got some from the Red Keep’s kitchens and emptied a whole wineskin in a matter of minutes. It was the best way to relieve the stress he knew since he had his first share of wine after the sack of King’s Landing. It helped now, too.

He didn’t win the stupid tourney, but he still had some coin, so he went to get himself a whore. He was lucky enough to be able to pick a _pretty_ one, even though her teats were kind of small. Not that it mattered, he always had his whore on their knees, none of them was happy enough to look in his face as soon as the door behind them was closed. _Especially_ the pretty ones.

He got himself a whore and offered her some wine. She said he was a generous customer and wondered if his cock would be generous enough, too. Then she got into a funny mood and said she’d prefer to have a tourney winner in her bed. She was teasing him, all whore liked to tease their clients. Little did she know that Sandor was pissed off for the whole evening _because_ of that fucking tourney.

He left that stupid whore in her bed, not even leaving her the promised coin. She had it coming, to hells with her.

Sandor went to the nearest winesink and got shitfaced. The wine was awful, it smelled of old socks and tasted like mould, but Sandor didn’t care. He didn’t want to be so pissed off about everything, any sort of wine would work.

At some point, he realised it didn’t work anymore. Maybe he had too much wine for one day, maybe the main issue was with the lacking quality of that shitty drink, but he was pissed off once again. He had to drink more.

“More,” he slurred to the serving wench who eyed him with a sheer disgust in her eyes. It had to be because of his mug, not because he got shitfaced. She was used to all sorts of men getting drunk in that whole, she was disgusted by his mug. Stupid wench.

_Ser, you shouldn’t have any more wine for tonight._

“Fuck you and your bloody _sers_ ,” Sandor snapped at the wench.

“Are you mad?” the wench frowned. “One more word, and we will get you out of here. Despite you being the Prince’s shield.”

“Then stop saying what I should do,” Sandor snorted. She _was_ a stupid wench, for sure.

The woman twisted a finger at her temple and left.

_Um, Ser, I apologise…_

“The fuck?” Sandor turned his head to find a bloody bastard who was trying to tell him what to do. It was a woman, for sure, but no women were seen around him. The serving wench went to attend to another drunk sod, and the only whores in the winesink were sitting in the opposite corner of the room. The voice in his head sounded too childish, so Sandor shook his head and looked down, just in case. But there was no one around him, it had to be his drunk self trying to get him back to the Red Keep.

  
Maybe he had to stop, after all. Sandor dug out a dragon and left it on the table. To hells with the winesink, to hells with that shitty liquid they called _wine_. To hells with everything, he needed to have some sleep. Despite being pissed off.

It was good to be back outside. Sandor didn’t mind the nasty drizzle, it was quite refreshing and even chased away the drunken fog around him. Too bad his legs still were kind of wobbly. Stupid swill, Sandor wasn’t sure if it was a wine at all. They probably got some water from the harbour and started to sell it as their best wine. To hells with them.

_Thank you_.

Bloody voice was back again. Sandor stopped in the middle of the alley and cursed.

_Ser, you shouldn’t say those things at all!_

“Bugger off, inner me,” Sandor snorted loudly. “I know that wine was a cup of shit, but not to the point I would get some stupid voices in my head.”

Right, he wasn’t _that_ drunk. He got shitfaced, his legs were wobbly, but he wasn’t drunk to the point he would start talking to himself.

_Actually, you are talking to me. Not to yourself._

“And who in the seventh hell are you?” Sandor hiccuped. His inner self was a bastard, just like Sandor himself.

_I am Sansa._

Great, his inner self thought he was a _woman_. He had to come to that winesink once again, when he was sober. He had to beat the shit out of the owner for poisoning people with that wine of his.

“Sansa?” he cracked up. At least his inner self managed to pick a name which was similar to his one.

_Yes, I am Sansa. And I am five years old. Um… And your language is really bad, Ser. You shouldn’t talk like that._

That inner voice was chirping and chirping and chirping. Sandor’s head was already spinning, he cursed once again and made his way to the nearest wall.

“Don’t know any Sansas,” he grumbled, seating himself down on the wet ground. He had to sit there for a while and make sure that inner voice went away. Then he would stand up and return to the Red Keep. It was a wonderful plan.

_And I don’t know you, Ser. I never heard you in my head before. Or maybe I did, but was still too young to understand it was you. And now I am five years old._

“My inner self is a buggering child,” Sandor snorted, rubbing his temples.

_I am not your inner self, Ser._

“I am not a fucking ser,” Sandor groaned, palming his face. Why that chirping voice had to be so stupid?

_I’m sorry! But Ser… I mean, I don’t know how I should call you then. I’m so sorry..._

“Just go away and you won’t have an issue choosing the right moniker for me,” Sandor was tired and pissed off again. He just wanted to get back to his small room and have some sleep. Maybe it would chase the voice away.

_But I can’t go, I can’t control it, you know. My mother told me this is how the whole thing works. With soulmates and everything. I’m sure you know about it, Ser._

“Soulmates,” Sandor burst into laughter and pinched himself. The whole thing with soulmates was a total rubbish, there was no way he had a soulmate. He was one and twenty, he was too old for that shit.

_Soulmates, yes._

That wine was the worst shit Sandor ever drank, for sure. He had to beat the shit out of the owner of that fucking winesink. He shook his head and clumsily got back on his feet. It was time for him to get reunited with his bed. And to hells with everything, including that imaginary chirping voice in his head. He had to sleep on it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> January is a really tough month at my work, so i won't be around ao3 too much. probably will post these short snippets from time to time, as i really need to ventilate my head after long days of dealing with all the university stuff. but at the same time, i'm working on 3 l o n g updates for 3 fanfics i hadn't touched for a while, stay tuned (but i will post them by the end of the month, maybe one of them will come out earlier). some other short updates for other fanfics are coming soon, too.  
> i hope you will enjoy this silly addition to my soulmate family xD


	2. In which Sansa comes up with a very important decision

Soulmates were a blessing. That was what Sansa was told by both her mother and father when she was a little girl. Maybe her parents had a disagreement on the topic whom people should thank for such a blessing. Mother said the Seven were behind the whole soulmate thing, and father was sure the Old Gods were the ones who decided if a person was lucky enough to have a soul he was connected to.

Sansa was told that not everyone had a soulmate. Her parents were lucky to have each other, but the rest of their siblings never had a destined soul. Sansa was told it was rare to hear the voice of their soulmate in their head, but she dreamt about it since her mother told her about the whole thing for the first time.

It would be just like in the songs! There weren’t many songs about soulmates, which made Sansa sad. But the ones she heard were so beautiful. Sometimes sad, as poor people in those songs never managed to meet each other, but still beautiful. Sansa dreamt she would hear the voice of her soulmate in her head, talk to him, get to know him better. Maybe even plan their beautiful wedding and think of the names of their children.

She knew it was nearly impossible to get a soulmate, but she kept thinking a lot of those perfect pictures. They made her happy and she always fell asleep with a smile on her lips. She wished her life was just like in a song!

_Bloody bastard, I’m going to tear his fucking head off when I see him._

Sansa covered her flushing face with both hands and tried hard to suppress a loud squeak.

Right, she had a soulmate. The Seven and the Old Gods heard her prayers and found her a destined soul.

_A bunch of some useless wankers, that’s who they’re._

Too bad her soulmate was like… _that_. Sansa had no idea who he was, nor she knew his name. She managed to talk to him only once, she was so flattered and so happy when she heard a strange voice in her head for the first time! She was about to fall asleep, she had already prayed to the Gods to look after her family and to find her a soulmate, if it was possible. And then she heard that voice and wanted to squeal in delight. She was the happiest girl in the whole of Westeros!

Until she realised her soulmate was drunk, and had a crude language, and had no manners at all, and didn’t even believe in her existence. He cursed and said that soulmates were shite. And he wanted to get himself even more wine, and he was already so drunk it was embarrassing to listen to him. Sansa tried to tell him he was wrong, and that he had to watch his language. That was what her parents always said to Robb and Jon, she knew it wasn’t wise for a young man to use _those_ words. She even tried to tell him to fold up with his wine. He was grumbling that the wine was _shite_ and still wanted to drink more.

Sansa had no idea who her soulmate was, but he definitely wasn’t a knight. She knew that for sure. Knights never acted like that, they were gallant and used only the most beautiful and wise words. They didn’t spend their time in some taverns drinking themselves to death. And they didn’t try to fall asleep right in the middle of the road. And they always believed in soulmates.

_Fucking fuckers._

He didn’t even know how to frame a sentence while cursing! Sansa was having her lessons with maester Luwin, she knew it wasn’t right to use two similar words in such a way. Not that she knew a lot about cursing. She didn’t want to learn any of those words. Too bad her soulmate had no idea about a proper language for a man grown. Sansa never heard her father saying any of those things, for example.

“Sansa, are you feeling well?” her septa asked. Sansa knew she had to ignore her soulmate and listen to septa’s words about the Seven and the way a young lady should behave while being in the sept. But she was too embarrassed!

“I’m fine,” she mumbled, removing her hands from her flushed face.

Septa Mordane sat next to her and put her hand to Sansa’s forehead.

“I think we should go and see maester Luwin, you’re burning,” she sighed and shook her head.

“But I’m feeling well!” Sansa tried to protest, but her septa didn’t listen to any of her poor excuses. She took Sansa’s hand and dragged her to the maester’s turret, murmuring something about cold North. She had always complained about North being too cold even during summer, and Sansa wondered where her soulmate lived. Not that she wanted to meet that man and his foul mouth right now, not at all!

_Oh, bugger off!_

Sansa had no idea what her soulmate was doing, but she was sure it was something bad. She could ask him, of course, but it meant her septa would hear her talking to him. And Sansa didn’t tell anyone about her soulmate. There was no way she could introduce her family to that crude man, no way at all. And if she spoke, he would say something about her in that awful manner of his, and say that she is chirping. She was a young lady, she wasn’t _chirping_!

Maester Luwin had told once that every person in this world had a chance for redemption. And when her father brought Theon to Winterfell, he told her mother that there was a way for that poor boy to become a better person. Everyone deserved that opportunity, her father said, and her father was the wisest man Sansa ever met.

Her soulmate could change, too. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t a knight; he was fortunate enough that the Seven and the Old Gods decided to pick Sansa as his destined soul. Perhaps, he prayed a lot to get a soulmate who could show him the way of change. And Sansa knew she was the most perfect person for that! Both maester Luwin and septa Mordane were sure she was the most polite and proper young lady. And if she was the one, it was her task to help that poor man to learn more about proper language and manners. She would try to talk to him when she will be alone; she would teach him everything she learnt from her mother and her tutors. And then he would become the most perfect man whom she will gladly present to her family. And then they will talk about their beautiful wedding and think of the names of their future children. 

_The hells with all of them!_

Yes, Sansa's had the most perfect plan. Now she had to learn not to blush every time she heard him cursing. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ugh]


End file.
